


Shadow

by leeyanatasya



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Invisibility, Love Triangles, Self-Doubt, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeyanatasya/pseuds/leeyanatasya
Summary: Yoon Dowoon has come to believe that he is meant to spend his life in the shadows. As the drummer of a college band who thrive off of last-minute gigs and admiration of less than dozen fans , perhaps there’s just not enough of the limelight to go around.But with Nyx, he feels different. It isn’t the fact that she willingly gives him attention he’s never earned, it’s that he wants to be on centre stage in no one else’s eyes but hers.But he lives in the darkness. And Kim Wonpil’s light is simply too bright that it keeps her blind from the shadows.-	- -Kim Wonpil has his life planned out before him; he’s the toast of the town, the apple of everyone’s eye, the golden boy with hopes of making it big once he graduates. He has spent his life in the limelight, and he adores it.The perfect bonus to a bright life is her, his childhood friend whom he’s been in love with since his high school years – his very own light. His very own Nura.He has his band, he has the limelight, he has his girl; nothing could possibly lie in the dark to take it all away.But with every bright light, there is a shadow.





	1. In the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Find more of my work on twitter:  
> @/endlesskyh
> 
> Talk to me on Twitter or Curious Cat:
> 
> curiouscat.me/endlesskyh

When Yoon Dowoon isn’t playing the drums, he spends his time trying to survive his endless assignments. 

He’s seated on a bench in the middle of campus, just across from the parking lot yet hidden behind the bushes, the ones large enough for him to not be seen. He has his laptop perched on his lap, trying to finish the report that’s due that very day, only in a matter of hours. It’s a heavy burden he’s barely grasping onto, especially with the limited time he currently has. Not to mention the workload is supposed to be shared among five, yet it appears he’s the sole contributor to the very assignment that could cause them to fail the entire semester. 

The other four happened to be his band members, who have since left him to the project as they had other commitments; Sungjin and Jae have sports practice from dawn; Younghyun has locked himself in his dorm, trying to come up with the latest song for the band’s gig tomorrow night; and Wonpil insists that he needs to hone his piano skills everyday before the upcoming showcase in a few months. While he believes it’s wonderful that his bandmates are so busy with their lives, it means that he is often left with the  
shorter end of the stick; others have their own roles, other passions and goals they earnestly wish to strive for, but Dowoon? His job is to finish the group projects. That is all there is. 

He doesn’t mind it – not necessarily. He’s been used to this since freshman year, when Park Jaehyung had heard him on the drums and decided to take him under his wing; their band’s previous drummer had graduated, leaving them with no one to complete the rhythms and hard-hitting beats that complement a song. When they pleaded for the younger boy to join, Dowoon had agreed, believing this could be his one chance to stand out in a crowd; he’d been wrong. His first gig at a nearby club had only eleven people in attendance, and only half had seemed to like what they heard; none of them even knew who the boys were. When confronted, Jae had simply grinned and said he’d forgotten to mention the sole detail that they weren’t very well-known yet, and that it would all take a turn for the better now that Dowoon was here. 

In a way, it did take a turn. They now had someone to do the group projects for them.

But he like he said, he’s used to it. And the older boys treat him well. They treat him so incredibly well that he’s grown more than merely attached to them; he loves them with his heart. The few people who have cared for him inn a way he hasn’t felt for a long time. Not since he’s sunk into the shadows and made himself blind to the rest of the world. 

He’s been this way since he can remember, truthfully: he’s never been one to stand at centre stage, nor does he believe he’s done anything symbolic to earn the right to attention in the first place. Yoon Dowoon has admitted to himself long ago that he is just not the person for the spotlight; he lingers behind, allows himself to be part of the applause, keeping his head down before moving back into his silhouette where he knows he belongs. The failed attempt at trying to achieve a bit of recognition by accepting to be the drummer of a band has since proved that recognition simply isn’t his friend in any place or time. Over the years, the band’s popularity has grown gradually – they still can only afford to snag gigs not twenty miles from their dorms, as well as having earned only a handful amount of attention from boys and girls – yet Yoon Dowoon’s significance remains the same. No one comes up to him and says they can’t wait to watch him play; no one tells him they’re looking forward to hearing his latest self-composed solo; no, he remains in the back. He remains around to complete the rhythms and hit the hard-hitting beats. 

Just like the drums, Yoon Dowoon has come to terms that all he’s around for is to complement, and nothing more. He’s conceded, he’s admitted, he’s accepted. Few reasons lie in the dark to convince him otherwise.

And only one of those reasons stands in bright daylight. 

And even as he remains hidden in plain sight, she spots him in the crowd nonetheless. 

Dowoon is seemingly oblivious, trying hard to pay attention to the work at hand, his fingers running over the keyboard in a swift motion as his heart beats with rapidity in his chest, trying to meet a deadline he knows is almost impossible to. He could’ve finished it sooner if band practice hadn’t run a little too late; he could’ve finished it sooner if he hadn’t woken up at an unreasonable hour after having spent yet another night without sleep; he could’ve – 

An arm wraps around his neck in a playful manner, a deep voice ringing in his ears that causes him to yelp in surprise and almost drop the item on his lap. 

“Yoon Dowoon, the night has come to take you.”

Dowoon turns his head to peer his eyes at the person standing behind him, bending forward with laughter as she keeps her arm around his shoulder. His reaction seemingly amuses her, and he huffs with frustration before turning back in his seat, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of his aggravation. 

He ignores the fact that his heart still beats with rapidity, though now for a very different reason. 

“Not funny, Nyx,” Dowoon speaks, balancing his laptop back in its initial position. “I could have dropped this.”

Within his peripheral vision, Dowoon spots Nyx’s fake pout, trying to win him over with her endearing manner as she moves around the bench, plopping herself down next to him. She leans over to view his work, staying in such close proximity that Dowoon’s breaths suddenly shorten, never being used to having her this close – not when he’s unable to touch her. And when she scans through his work and turns ever so slightly to meet his gaze, Dowoon swears his breathing stops altogether. 

Nyx scrunches her nose at him, before raising an eyebrow with curiosity. “Isn’t the deadline for this today?”

Dowoon sighs. “Yes, and I’m struggling to finish this as is.”

“Where are the other boys? Shouldn’t they be helping you with this?”

“Other commitments.” He grumbled, and she snickered in amusement, throwing her head back to face the blue sky. Underneath the sunlight, Dowoon could witness every single feature he’s come to notice plenty of times over the years; the crook of her nose, the eyes that illuminated with the presence of sunlight, the everlasting bright smile that never left her lips. He also couldn’t help but notice the long hair perfectly dolled up into a braid, the subtle hint of heavier makeup, and the pure white sundress that sits just below her knees. 

Over the years, Dowoon has noticed every detail of this girl next to him; he’s also come to notice that she prefers to not wear sundresses, or even dresses in general, unless it was for the special occasions. 

A date. She never wears sundresses unless she’s going on a date. 

Dowoon refuses to acknowledge the lump that begins to form in his throat. “Of course, you would know where one of them is, don’t you? Or at least, where he’s heading.”

Nyx grins sheepishly, shrugging with pretend nonchalance as she places a hand on his shoulder. Dowoon has half a mind to move her hand away, but that would mean even more physical contact he could barely handle to begin with. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you two are going on a date. When I have to do everything at once.” 

“Everything?” She raises an eyebrow, moving closer towards him on the bench. 

Dowoon moves back like lightning, silently cursing himself for what he’s just unleashed. 

“Nyx, don’t – “

“Everything?” She places her elbows on her knees, placing her chin in the palm of her hands. As Nyx flutters her eyes in an exaggerated manner, Dowoon turns his face away from her, trying hard to disguise the amused smile on his lips. 

“Everything? Everything?” Nyx continues her endearing act as she moves closer on the bench, until the fabric of her sundress brushes against his jeans; Dowoon realises that if he turns his head now, he’ll find the close proximity between them leaving him breathless again, and so he keeps his gaze averted for a moment, hoping she’ll admit defeat if he continues to ignore her; but the girl has always been stubbornly persistent, and it isn’t until Dowoon himself softly pushes her shoulder back that she laughs and slides over to her side of the bench. 

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” Dowoon grins, failing to hide the admiration in his voice that has always lay hidden whenever he talks about Nyx, to Nyx. 

“Oh, please. You love me.”

Now at that, Dowoon refuses to respond. 

He stays in silence as Nyx taps her fingers against the handle of the bench, humming to herself as she scans the sea of students moving towards and away from the parking lot; she’d ignored his question moments prior, but her eager anticipation is already a vivid answer. She’s waiting for him. For her beloved pianist. 

“Where the hell is he?” She groans, turning back her focus towards the boy who actually remains in sight. “I swear, one day we might actually break up because of his bad timing.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Dowoon whispers, trying to divert his attention back to his work; the entire report are just a number of blurred lines now, and all in his mind is the very pain he has to endure when the person she’s waiting for finally comes along; he can’t exactly walk away. Nyx is smart enough to know something’s wrong. Besides, if she starts trying to act cute again in an attempt to get him to stay, his knees might just buckle under her gaze. 

She huffs. “He’d be here on time if he wasn’t such a damn – “

An arm wraps around Nyx’s shoulder as a low, disgruntled voice rings in her ear. “I see someone’s been talking about me behind my back.”

Nyx giggles at the sudden embrace, leaning her head against the owner of the voice’s. Kim Wonpil grins with significant delight as his girl turns her head and plants a short kiss on his lips, just before he moves towards the back of the bench to wrap his arms tighter around her shoulders, placing his chin against the crook of her neck. 

On the other end of the bench, Yoon Dowoon watches the display of affection with the best nonchalant expression he could muster, trying to avoid the sinking feeling in his heart that wishes to permanently haunt him whenever he sees the two together. He stares down at the grass, witnessing his shadow grow longer with the moving sun; how he wishes he could drown himself into his own silhouette there and then. 

He tries not think about how Wonpil’s exact action upon seeing her happens to be the exact same one she did to him. 

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Nura." Wonpil’s voice remains muffled, though it rings loud and clear in Dowoon’s ears. He isn’t even looking at the two, yet he could already picture that everlasting smile growing broader with each second she stares into his best friend’s eyes; the mere image of it is enough to keep his gaze fixed somewhere else – everywhere else, but them. 

“It’s fine,” she speaks, before reaching over to place a hand on Dowoon’s shoulder – again. He jolts up in surprise, having been lost in his train of thought, before his cheeks redden at the sight of the two; Wonpil has his arms around her, like he assumed, and now his heart has dropped to the pit of his stomach. 

Everywhere else, but them. But when them happens to refer to his closest companions, it is so, so much easier said than done.

“Dowoon kept me company for the time being, as he always does.” Nyx clicks her tongue, bringing her gaze back up to her high-school sweetheart. “By the way, I heard you boys abandoned all the workload on him; why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t handed in your project yet? The poor boy claims he has to do everything at once.”

“Everything?” Wonpil raises an eyebrow, before leaning down to level his eyes with hers. He moves his face closer to hers and pinches her nose, causing Nyx to giggle again, the sound ringing a beautiful melody in her boyfriend’s ears, as well as that of a drummer seated in agony. The sound of her laugh – it’s the kind of sound that only appears in broad daylight, only in the presence of an eternal sunshine. Only in the presence of one Kim Wonpil. 

“I’ve got my everything right here.” Wonpil pulls her closer to him again, rubbing his knuckles into her hair. “And I have to do everything too, as you recall.”

Dowoon wants nothing more than to fucking gag. 

Nyx sneers as she slaps his hand away, leaning away from the bench as she attempts to fix her now slightly dishevelled hair. “Not in the presence of third company, Kim Wonpil.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t consider Woonie third company.” Wonpil grins, before suddenly reaching over to ruffle Dowoon’s hair next. The younger boy groans in protest, and Wonpil responds by pinching his cheek. 

“Wonpil, stop.”

“You’re so cute, Woonie. It’s hard to resist.” The pianist laughs, before he peers over the drummer’s shoulder to scan through the long abandoned report; Dowoon almost forgets that he’s since left the project untouched. 

“I – I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“Woonie, considering you’re doing all this alone, I’d be grateful if you even manage to hand in a blank page,” Wonpil muses, before stepping back to reach for his girlfriend’s embrace; Nyx intertwines their fingers together and places a kiss on the back of Wonpil’s hand. 

“You better buy this boy meat for doing this,” she speaks, and Wonpil nods without any hesitation.

“Of course. This boy is a miracle.”

“It’s not – it’s not that great.”

“Of course it is. We’ve been dumping a lot of work on you because of our other priorities, and that’s not fair.” Wonpil squeezes the younger boy’s shoulder, beaming down at him with a smile as bright as the day. “I promise you next time, the boys and I will do the project ourselves, alright? You get to have a break.”

“You – you don’t need to that, Wonpil.” 

“Why not? Like I said, our precious baby brother’s a miracle. Why should you do all the work all the time – isn’t that right, Nura?”

Nyx peers her eyes at him, chuckling in amusement. “You sure you’re not saying all this just because I’m here?”

“Partially to win brownie points. But I do think we should treat Woonie a little better.” Wonpil bends down to pinch his cheek again, and his face reddens at the very act. Out of all his band members, Wonpil remains the one to be the most empathetic – he pays him the most attention, gives him more affection than he's ever received, cherishes him even while standing underneath his own spotlight. 

Kim Wonpil’s a good guy. Which is why yearning for the biggest source of light in his life continuously crumbles Dowoon’s insides, plunging him into a whirlpool of guilt he doesn’t know how to escape from. He shouldn’t feel this way about her; he knows he shouldn’t even think to feel this way about her. Wonpil’s a good guy, Nyx’s an even greater girl; they’re a match made in heaven if he’s ever seen one. They belong together, and they have been together for years – so why, why out of everyone in this whole campus, must his focus always be diverted back to her?

“We should get going,” Nyx proclaims, sliding Wonpil’s arm around her waist. “I’ll see you in Mr. Kang’s class, Dowoon?”

“Sure, Nyx.”

“Nyx.” Wonpil snickers, alternating his gaze between his two best friends. “I swear, Dowoon – you’re the only person who still calls her by that name.”

“It is her actual name, after all,” the younger boy mumbles, placing his gaze back to the ground. It’s true that he remains to be the sole person on campus to call her Nyx; the goddess of night, embodying a shadowy figure, the one who either helps you or destroys you. Wonpil claims that the name doesn’t suit her bright personality, that it is too far off from the person she truly is; Dowoon thinks differently. 

The goddess of night will either help you or destroy you. To him, that’s the perfect way to describe the girl he can’t have. 

“It doesn’t really matter; I like that he calls me Nyx.” She grins, giving him a wink as he meets her gaze. “It’s a subtle reminder that I still have another name on my birth certificate.”

“I still believe Nura suits you more,” Wonpil responds, pulling her flushed against him. “But to each their own. We should go, though – I’m sensing two lovely cups of frozen yoghurt just waiting to be devoured.”

Wonpil turns to Dowoon and scrunches his nose at the drummer yet again, a certain glint of affection in his eyes. “I’ll see you in class, Woonie. I’m really sorry about the project.”

With that, Wonpil suddenly bolts into a run, trying to drag Nyx with him though she stays in place, leaning forward as she grips onto the edge of the bench. “I’ll be sure to reprimand him even more later.” She winks, before conjuring back the deep voice that had rung in his ears minutes prior. 

“Yoon Dowoon, the night has come to take you.”

“Just get out of here already.”

With his words, Nyx bursts into laughter, before running in the direction of her boyfriend as they head for their date, leaving Dowoon to remain hidden in plain sight yet again, away from the limelight and further into the shadows.

The night has come to take you, she claims. Little does she know the night has already taken him and made him hers, from the first day they met.


	2. Beneath the light

People are born with gifts to their name. For some, it’ll be the act of acing any academic assessment with little efforts; for others, it’s the creativity that builds and spurs out of them in a natural manner, be it in words or art or photos; for Kim Wonpil, he believes that he’s born with the gift to shed light on the world around him. 

He wouldn’t consider himself an orbited sun, providing warmth and brightness to the universe he lives in – though his girlfriend claims so – but more so he believes his purpose is to try and keep the people around him happy, keep them walking on sunshine, hovering close to the sun as they fly on cloud nine; in other words, Kim Wonpil has a knack for keeping people away from the darkness, and he takes pride in such a talent. 

How it started is a blind spot even to him; as mentioned prior, Wonpil believes he was born with this gift, because he’s been this way for as long as he can remember. His first memory includes him trying to help his mum bake cookies for Christmas morning, making a mess that amuses her rather than infuriates – in fact, most of the memories he can conjure from his childhood revolve around Christmas days, but that is more due to his love for those moments than anything else. When it comes to being an embodiment of sunshine, Wonpil remains true to the role, and with the portrayal comes a life filled mainly with positive events and happier days. He isn’t sure if he is just lucky, or if he’s simply always focused on the glass half-full to give too big of a damn about the bad occurrences. 

When you look at Wonpil’s life from an outside perspective, or even from the perspective of Kim Wonpil himself, the boy truly has everything; he’s been named a musical prodigy since childhood, having learned to play the piano before he could barely walk; his family is the definition of picture-perfect, with his older sister whom he cares for terribly and his parents who still love each other – and him – maybe a little too much after all these years; his band whom he met in freshman year, at the very university he received a scholarship to, bonding over their love for modern rock and wanting to create their own twist on the genre and the variety of others. He found a lifelong friendship within his band members, whom he loves more than himself. They’re the ones he can’t imagine not having in his life, the ones he believes will always stand next to him underneath the sunlight, despite any form of darkness that may come. 

Them, and of course – her.

When you try your best to make others happy, you also need someone to keep you in the clouds yourself – someone whom you’ve known since you were seven, someone who has been there through all your bright days, someone who keeps the sunshine smile from never leaving your lips; someone who is the reason you believe you have everything. Your very own source of light.

That is what Nura is to him. 

Kim Wonpil is sure of many things in his life; he has it figured out, and he knows how lucky he is because of it. One of the things – one of the people – he has never doubted is Nura herself, his childhood friend turned high-school sweetheart. They’ve been each other’s partner in crime for so long, having each other’s backs and keeping each other close that for him, falling in love was simply inevitable; she likes to joke that there were always other routes they could’ve fallen back on, and that he was lucky to have her actually follow the path he visualised. She jokes, but he doesn’t retaliate. He knows he’s lucky. He’s lucky for a lot of things. 

Some people are just born with gifts to their name. Be it academics, or art, or the longing need to make people happy; Kim Wonpil believes he is born to shed a light on the world around him. But she will always remain his centre – the sun he orbits, providing warmth and brightness because he can. 

One main way to keep his sun shining, is to bring her out for frozen yoghurt she so desperately craves. 

“I need another cup.” Nura moans, scooping the last of the mango yoghurt left in her cup and into her mouth; she makes an exaggerated motion of peeking into the cup in a pretend attempt to find if she has left any of the contents behind, to which Wonpil responds with an amused grin.

“I told you to get two straight-on,” he muses, before pushing his half-full cup towards the girl. She looks down and back up at him with a beaming glint in her eyes and smile; it takes him everything not taste the mango flavour on her lips right there and then. 

“Are you sure you don’t want this?”

“Take it. I’m full anyway – just tell me if you want more.”

“Gladly.” She grins, grabbing his cup and slowly devouring the contents; Wonpil watches as his girlfriend takes her time with her guilty pleasure, clearly wanting to preserve its taste even on her now second cup. It’s typical Nura – she takes her time with whatever she loves. She cherishes it within its most significance aspect, be it taste, looks, feel. It’s one of the things he loves most about her. 

“How about a movie next?” Wonpil asks, raising an eyebrow as she meets his gaze once again. “There has to be good ones out right now – let’s just pick one and see how it goes.”

“And if we don’t like it we’ll end up making out in the back?”

“Your suggestion, not mine.”

Nura giggles. “I don’t know, I still feel bad for Woonie. You guys really shouldn’t have left him to do all that crap by himself. Not to mention this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this.”

Wonpil pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in pretend offence. “Hey, he said he was okay with it.”

“Did he now? Come on, Wonpil – even if he says it’s fine with it, it doesn’t excuse the fact that he should get help from his best friends. He’s your baby brother, or so I recall.”

Wonpil scrunches his nose up at the girl before him, knowing her words ring true but wanting to be on the defence for a moment longer. “I had band practice last night and piano the whole morning, I swear the project slipped my mind.”

“I get that, but – “

“And then I promised to hang out with you, and you know I could never cancel on you.”

“You can show up late though.” She grumbles, and Wonpil laughs in amusement. 

“Well that’s just a must, Nura.”

“I guess I just feel bad.” She sighs, placing the now empty cup back on the table. Wonpil raises an eyebrow to ask if she wants another, though she shakes her head in refusal. “I mean, we practically ditched the poor boy just now. That wasn’t exactly the morally decent thing to do.”

“I tell you what,” Wonpil chirps, leaning against the table as he notices a strand of hair fall between Nura’s eyes; covering her face with her hair is a natural tendency when she feels guilty or nervous, and Wonpil has taken it upon himself over the years to fix the loose strands. As he tucks his hair behind her ear, he scrunches his nose at her in a playful manner, wanting the precious light to brighten up again. She pokes her tongue out at him and rolls her eyes, though a smile makes its way onto her lips in a matter of seconds. 

Now there’s his girl.

“I promise I’ll make it up to him,” Wonpil whispers, taking her hand and placing a kiss on the back. “For now, can we just enjoy the date? I don’t want you mulling over this.”

“I guess,” she concedes, grabbing his hand and tugging him up from his seat. “Let’s go see what shitty movies are playing so we can make out in the back.”

“Again, your words. Not mine.”

With that, she laughs – a certain sound that only appears in broad daylight, only in his presence. She pulls him close and slides his arm around her waist, lifting up her hand to cup his cheeks. 

“Shall we leave?”

“Lead the way.”

Nura gives him a delightful grin, intertwining a single finger of his with her own, before leaving the place and stepping out into the warm afternoon sun. 

Just a few hours prior, in the morning just before his date, dark clouds had mulled over and caused him to worry that a melancholy setting would accompany his date later on in the day – fortunately, it had been a mere fright, as the sun had come out just after he finished his daily piano practice in the music hall. Now, the sun stands tall in midday, shining down on his light in a breath-taking, iridescent manner. Her loose braids falls between her shoulders as she walks in front of him, hair turning a shade lighter in the presence of sunlight; she keeps their fingers intertwined as she walks in front of him, leading him to their destination yet never failing to stop at every other shop along the way, even the ones that she’s never shown any remote interest in; every now and then, she turns to him and gives him a smile, one laced with playfulness yet comfort; it is these few moments he steals and takes her in, his eyes entranced as they wander over her lighter hair, her brightly shining eyes, her everlasting sunshine smile – every single one complemented by the sun. 

She is breath-taking in a sense he can’t quite explain. He just knows he’s lucky; he is so, so lucky. 

It takes some time before they finally make it to the movie theatre, and when they do, Wonpil expects her to pull him inside as she always does – but Nura stops in her tracks just a few metres short of the venue, causing him to collide with her back and almost push her forward. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion at his girlfriend, who seems to be in a deep entrance. 

“Nura, what is – “

“Look, black roses,” she muses, pointing her finger in the direction of the small florist shop they’re standing in front of, just adjacent to the place they’re heading to. Wonpil turns his head, following the direction of her hand – and sure enough, there in the display window, lay a bouquet of black roses placed elegantly along with other various flowers arrangements, though it sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the rest – the only shade of night surrounded by several bright colours. 

“They look really pretty.” She sighs, and Wonpil places his chin on her head. 

“They do look beautiful,” he agrees, keeping his gaze on his girl. “Though they’re probably fake, which is a shame.”

“I don’t think it’s a shame.” She smiles, turning around to face her boyfriend, she pulls her finger from his and places both her hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, getting on her tip-toes to lean her forehead against his. “Just because something isn’t real doesn’t make it any less beautiful – don’t you think?”

Wonpil’s eyes brighten as he nods slowly, staring directly into his source of light. “Perhaps. Although, I spot something very beautiful right here, and she is very much real.”

Hearing his words, Nura chuckles as her cheeks redden, taking a step back and releasing her hands from his hoodie. She reaches upwards and cups his cheeks in her hand again, scrunching her nose up at him. 

“I guess I have to agree,” she breathes, the everlasting sunshine smile broadening with each word. “I love you, Wonpil.”

The words have left her lips so many times in the four years they’ve been together, yet each profession leaves his world a little brighter. It isn’t so much the words themselves as the way she looks at him when she utters them; with so much comfort and warmth and love, sometimes Wonpil can’t imagine for the world of him just how much of a miracle it is that she is his. 

With a heavy sigh, Wonpil moves his free hand up to ruffle his girlfriend’s hair, earning him a well-deserved glare and a light smack on the shoulder. 

“I love you too. A little bit more than before, every single day.”


	3. How She Met The Dark

The first night he met her; she had distracted him from being bat-shit drunk. 

It was his first official gig with the band, at a local club only a couple of miles off-campus; once Dowoon had finally caved in to their persistence and Jae’s sweet words of fame and glory, the band had spent most of the previous week practising on-and-off, mainly to allow Dowoon the time he needed to get used to the songs and test the waters of chemistry amongst five members. Although he’d managed to grow somewhat close with them over the semester, it was still Dowoon’s first year in college – the others were sophomores, and had almost a year of bonding that Dowoon didn’t have the privilege of being part of. His tendency to be shy and keep to himself also wasn’t a pleasant ingredient added to the mixture; for most of band practice, Dowoon kept his distance, and this meant he could feel the silent tension that hung in the air that no one else seemed to want to be rid of. Perhaps no one else noticed, perhaps he was overthinking, but it didn’t vanquish the fact that he still felt the songs weren’t complemented enough, especially for – according to Jae – a small yet significant group of people. People he wanted to impress and captivate.

So Dowoon figured if he didn’t have time to fix his chemistry with the band, then he had time to try and sharpen his skills; figuring that exceptional drumming could help overcome the awkward tension, Dowoon stayed up for a good few nights in the music room and in his dorm, practising and practising until he was sure the veins in his arms would rupture. It was the image, the opportunity of being able to stand out from the shadows that drove him to try and do his best; it was his first gig, he was the replacement drummer, Jae promised a lot of people would be there; it was finally the chance for a light to shine upon him. Now that he was in college, things would be different. He would allow things to be different. 

When Dowoon was greeted by eleven people in the crowd, he had been more than a little disappointed. 

Had he known that his first official gig with the band would consist of a drunk-off-the-rails group of strangers who were barely listening to a word of their music, perhaps he wouldn’t have even bothered to show up; hell, he wouldn’t have even bothered to say yes in the first place. This was the sole, sole attempt he tried to make in order to perhaps gain some recognition for himself, but all attempts had proved futile; Jae hadn’t merely sugar-coated his words, he had straight-up lied in an attempt to get the aspiring to join the band. 

In hindsight, Dowoon realised he should have known better; it was a little too good to be true for a mere college band to have even a small following, and perhaps he should have looked up the capacity of the club before expecting so much – but he’d heard the older boys play, and he liked their sound. More importantly, he liked them as people. He figured with their talent and their wits, being recognised by a number of people on campus couldn’t be that hard. Then again, it could just be the attempt at wanting to make a change that allowed for internal persuasion. He should have taken Jae’s words with a pinch of salt, but maybe he just wanted the sweetness of believing he could stand out. But that alone perhaps is just too much to ask for.

In hindsight, Dowoon realised he should have known better; he would never be given the chance to stand out, simply because he was never meant to. He’s meant to spend his life behind the scenes, away from prying eyes, enveloped in the shadows; it was just a matter of accepting. 

Although on that night, acceptance was a bit more challenging to find. 

“A decent following, huh? Park Jaehyung, you were too modest.”

The sarcasm in Dowoon’s tone made Jae snicker silently, as they sat at the bar after packing up their equipment and other necessities; Jae was staying sober for the night, being responsible for driving his van back to the dorms; he’d hinted heavily throughout the night that empathy was a virtue the band should try and gain, wanting to have the others accompany him in being sober as well – though it didn’t work. The rest of the boys were in the middle of the vacant dance floor after getting incredibly shit-faced, trying to bust moves Dowoon would rather never see again. The only decent dancer in the trio was perhaps Sungjin, though the alcohol was making him do more seductive moves than he should. 

Dowoon turned his head from Jae to find one of the members on the floor trying to twerk. He tore his gaze back within a split second later. 

Jae laughed at the younger boy’s reaction, amused by the sudden redness covering his cheeks. “No need for questions: yes, he does do that a lot.”

“All the time?”

“Only when he’s drunk so – yeah, all the time.”

“Well, that’s.. not something I’d want to see often.”

“Too bad, dude. You’re in this for life now.” Jae winked, grabbing his mocktail to take a sip of the drink, before sighing as he stared at the content – or really, the lack of alcohol in the content. “I hate being fucking designated driver.” He pushed his drink father away on the island and turned his attention back to Dowoon, who raised an eyebrow at the older boy; despite the sudden distraction of atrocious dance moves, the drummer was still disappointed by the exaggeration. 

“Look, Dowoon.” Jae sighed again, though a cheeky grin still made its way across his features. “We may not have a following – yet. But we’re gonna hit it big, I can tell! Especially with you as our new drummer, we can make it work.”

“I – I’m average at best.”

Jae scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself? You’ve got mad skills, my brother. People are gonna recognise you soon; it’s only a matter of time.”

But it’s not a matter of time. It’s a matter of who you are. 

Dowoon nodded subtly, not wanting to argue because it would be pointless anyway. He sipped his own drink in silence – he’d been nursing his first drink, having felt guilty for leaving Jae alone – and the guitarist eyed him curiously as he took a short sip, just realising his intentions. 

“You know, you don’t have to hold yourself back because of me.”

“I just feel bad. You shouldn’t be sober alone.”

“Well, don’t.” Jae shook his head, before standing up from the bar stool and cracking his knuckles. He stared down at Dowoon and winked, grabbing his mocktail and downing the rest of the beverage. “I’ll disappear now, so get as shit-faced as you want to. Because trust me, when it’s your turn to be the driver – I’m not holding myself back.”

With that, Jae took out his phone and opened the camera, before sauntering over to the three boys to record potential blackmail material. Dowoon shook his head with a smirk, turning in his chair to face the bartender. It took him a moment’s hesitation before he gulped down his drink, and asked the bartender for another. And another. And another.

He figured Jae was right; he might as well take the opportunity to get as wasted as he can – if the rest of the boys seem to be out of their mind in drunken states, he didn’t want to picture how the oldest usually acted – before he himself would soon be taken advantage of in the same way. Besides, if he couldn’t accept the disappointment, then he sure as hell could fucking drink the feeling away. 

What started with a few innocent drinks ended with Dowoon being slightly unable to comprehend the empty glasses in front of him; his mind was somewhat of a blur and his heart was beating in his chest to the beating of a drum, a rhythm similar to the beat of the song they’d just played. He tapped his fingers against the surface to the beat, humming along to the tune as his head swayed back and forth from the melody; he wasn’t sure if his members were still around, but his surroundings had grown much quieter than expected; he turned his head again to find the dance floor had been evacuated, and not a familiar face was anywhere in his now slightly impaired peripheral vision. Dowoon groaned, placing both elbows on the island as he wondered the worst.

Did those fucking idiots leave me?

He sighed as the thought ran through his mind, wondering how the hell he would be getting back to campus in a tipsy state; he knew it would be better to look for the boys rather than instinctively assume they had left him, but right then, Dowoon couldn’t be bothered; instead, all he wanted was another drink. 

“Could I get another – ?”

“I think you’ve had a few too many drinks there, raven boy.”

Dowoon’s words were interrupted by the sound of a voice he didn’t recognise; slowly, he turned his head towards the source, internally groaning about who the hell decided they could determine the limit of his drinks – 

And that was when he saw her, for the very first time. 

She had her hair tied in a braid, as she always did; she donned a black-on-black exterior, from the top to the jeans to the leather jacket that was clearly too big for her; her eyes peered into his own as they roamed over her facial features, taking in the crook of her nose, the faint tint of pink on her lips, the amused smile that came with it – Dowoon was slightly drunk. That much he would admit. But even he couldn’t deny that the girl before him was evidently gorgeous. 

She was breath-taking in a sense that he had realised from the very first sight, though he would only come to realise just how breathless she could make him within the months to come. 

But even right then, Dowoon was a boy captivated; this girl appeared to be the embodiment of beauty in darkness, a silhouette that deserved to shine rather than be hidden; perhaps he was jumping to conclusions a little too early, assuming so much of a mere stranger, so he kept his mouth shut and bowed his head, avoiding her from seeing his reddened cheeks. 

He already looked like a damn fire truck due to the alcohol; he didn’t need the presence of a pretty girl to darken the crimson shade. 

Sensing that Dowoon wasn’t about to answer her anytime soon, the girl smirked with amusement, plopping herself down onto Jae’s seat. Without so much as a warning, she bent forward slightly, trying to see if she can catch Dowoon’s gaze as he kept it downwards with persistence; as he moved his head a certain angle, she would do the same, and when he moved his head back, she would copy the action again. It became a game of turning heads that lasted a mere moment, though it both aggravated and amused Dowoon. Aggravated, because who the hell even was this girl? Amused, because he couldn’t deny that her actions were a more than a little hilarious. 

Especially the expressions she made. She kept fluttering her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner in an attempt to get him to look at her, cupping her chin in her hands as an endearing act. Dowoon thought it was cute; inappropriate in terms of social manner, but innocently cute. 

It didn’t take long before Dowoon finally caved in and actually, properly looked at her, causing the pretty girl to award him with a smile.

“Who – who are you?” Dowoon croaked out, suddenly hating the sheer depth of his voice. The girl ordered herself a drink from the bartender and turned back in his direction, broadening her grin. 

“Me? You don’t know who I am – I know who you are, though. You’re the drummer, aren’t you?”

“I, uh – “

“I saw you play just now! You’re really impressive, by the way. I almost couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Dowoon could feel his heart thumping louder than the rhythm of his drums. He’d initially presumed no one had even given a care about the band, what more him, the sole member enclosed in the back, face often covered by the presence of dark and the occasional blue hair. His mouth had suddenly gone dry, realising that someone had not only paid his band attention, yet actually paid attention to him. If Dowoon had looked like a fire truck before, he was another level of red by now. 

“I – I didn’t realise anyone had actually paid attention to us play,” he whispered, and the girl shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I follow the band to their gigs a lot; I think they – you guys – have a lot of promise, especially with you as their newest drummer. Seriously, for a freshman, you’ve got incredible talent.”

“Th – thank you.” Dowoon spoke soft, scratching the back of his head with his hand. He’d never been on the receiving end of a compliment much, what more from mere strangers he’d never met before; he wasn’t quite sure of what else to say. Also, it appeared that perhaps Jae wasn’t blatantly lying after all; the girl claimed to watch the band’s performances quite often, maybe she was a fan. Part of the small following Jae prided the boys on having. 

Which meant that he could be seeing this girl a hell of a lot more often. And this girl could be seeing him play a hell of a lot more often too. 

I almost couldn’t take my eyes off of you, she claimed. As dramatic as it sounded, Dowoon could feel his heart skip multiple beats. 

“You’re under the music department, right?” she inquired, sipping her drink as Dowoon nodded subtly. “Great. I’m under there too – violinist, though I don’t believe I deserve the term. But it’s been my companion for a while, ever since my childhood friend got me into it. Can’t imagine my life without the two, I guess.”

“The two?”

“Violin and the friend. Well, really more of – “

“H-how do you know I’m a freshman? Or that I’m under the music department?” Dowoon questioned, straightening himself in his seat; he hadn’t meant to cut the girl off, but his curiosity couldn’t be held back any longer; this girl knew these details about him – basic details, but she had to have learnt them nonetheless. He wasn’t exactly the most ubiquitous person on campus; more than half the students in his department barely knew he was in their course to begin with. So how did she, this random girl whom he had never seen before, know of him?

It was also a matter of how he hadn’t noticed her before. Dowoon would have noticed someone like her before. 

“I have my sources,” she mused, clearly having fun with maintaining an enigmatic persona. Dowoon huffed under his breath and turned back to the bartender, ordering himself another shot. 

“I think I told you you’ve had one too many drinks – “

“I think I don’t take advice from strangers who refuse to tell me how they know of me.”

Dowoon’s words caused the girl to be startled, widening her eyes as her shoulders fell back. Although, without missing a beat, a smirk appeared on her lips and she pulled her stool closer to his, placing her elbow on the island. She cupped her chin in her hand and leaned forward slightly to make more eye contact; Dowoon refused to acknowledge her this time, evading her eyes as he kept his drink tightened in his grip.

From behind his peripheral vision, the girl chuckled at the sight of him. “Guess Mr. Red Cheeks has a bold side,” she said, tapping her fingers on the surface of the island to a familiar rhythm – the rhythm of the song they’d just played. “Fine. You’re right. Let me somewhat clear things up; I just moved here last week. Probably the reason why you have yet to see me around much; my first class begins Monday though, so I expect you to be on the look-out.”

Dowoon moved his head back slightly until he could spot her in his line of sight again, and she grinned as he slowly went against his prior refusal. “As for how I know of you; let’s say there’s someone I know who tells me details. Plenty of details, about everything in his life, really.”

“The childhood friend?” Dowoon spoke, and he swore his heart dropped when she scrunched her nose at him, nodding vigorously. 

“Ah, you catch on quick. That’s nice to know.” The girl took another sip of her drink, pausing for a breath; he took this opportunity to finally be introduced to her, hoping he’d be able to get to know her further. 

“So, what’s your name?” 

For an inexplicable reason, the question made her pause in mid-air; she looked at Dowoon through her glass, as if not expecting such a simple question. She placed her beverage back at an alarmingly slow pace, causing the drummer to raise an eyebrow in wonder. The long silence that followed only caused his curiosity to multiply.

“I didn’t realise that was such a hard question.”

The girl smiled, chuckling to herself as she shook her head. “No, it’s not. Just.. takes a while to think about.”

She cleared her throat then and straightened herself in her seat, the everlasting smile still permanent on her features. “The name’s Nyx,” she answered, clicking her tongue as the name left her lips. “Goddess of the night, coming to take you.”

Dowoon couldn’t help the playful smile that appeared on his lips. “Goddess of the night? Any significance?”

“My father liked the name,” she whispered. “Though that’s not exactly a conversation for mere strangers. Guess we’re going to have befriend each other first.”

Dowoon didn’t want to admit that the thought of actually being able to get to know her further made his heart lose its rhythmic beat.

“You should consider yourself lucky,” she continued. “I don’t often let people call me Nyx.”

“W-why? What do they usually call you?”

“Nura. It means light – I know, funny right? It’s a nickname really, but I’ve been addressed as Nura for so long now that I often forget it’s not my real name.”

“So – so why do you want me to call you Nyx?”

Nyx pauses, contemplating the question. She blew a loose strand of hair that fell over her eyes, and Dowoon had the sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear for her. He kept his hands to himself. 

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “I guess it’s the fact that I’m as much of a blank page to you as you are to me. For now, at least. And you seem to have a lot more to you than what’s on the surface.”

She scrunched her nose at him again, this time more so to be rid of the tension rather than to look endearing. “I can understand that, sort of. The people around me tend to be open books. Also, you handle your alcohol well; you’ve managed to keep up with the conversation even with a few shots in you. I’m impressed.”

Dowoon smiled, though he didn’t let the want for a change of topic be reciprocated. “The people around you, such as - ?”

“The childhood friend,” she said abruptly, averting her eyes from his and looked around the almost vacant room. “I swear, he is always never around when I’m supposed to meet him.”

“Who is the childhood friend?” he pressed on, being surprisingly stubborn and not wanting to let the matter go. This childhood friend had evidently been speaking about him to her; it was his right to know who the damn guy was. 

It didn’t occur to Dowoon, in his drunken state, just reasonably who the boy may be. 

“Well, it’s not so much of a friend anymore as – “

Dowoon watched as a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around Nyx’s shoulders, dark hair suddenly covering her face as a familiar figure pulled her close to plant a kiss on her cheek. The drummer’s eyes widened as he realised who it was in front of him; as he realised who the childhood friend was.

The childhood friend, who was much friendlier than Dowoon wanted him to be. His heart was pounding in his chest from the mere sight.

And when Kim Wonpil lifted his head up to face Dowoon with an innocent grin, he could sense the rhythmic beat stop altogether. 

“Hey, Woonie. I see you’ve met Nura,” Wonpil spoke, planting his chin on her head. “Remember how I’ve mentioned my high-school girlfriend before?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, this is her, the one and only. She just moved here last week. We’ve been so busy with practice I never had the chance to formally introduce you guys.”

“No need for formal introduction,” Nyx interjected, keeping Wonpil’s arm wrapped around her – and her eyes on Dowoon. “We’ve just introduced ourselves.”

“Ah, well – it’s nice that my girl has finally met our little miracle.” Wonpil grinned. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

Dowoon blushed profusely at the question, keeping his eyes towards the floor again.

“He really gets shy easily,” Nyx pointed out. “I think it’s cute.”

“I agree.” Wonpil moved back to his initial position behind her chair, but not before planting another kiss on the top of her head. “I’m sorry for being late. The other boys and I were busy trying to shove a very drunken Brian into the van.”

“You’re always late.” She sighed, shaking her head up at him, only for the pianist to respond with a laugh. 

“By the way, Woonie – Jae told me to come get you. The boys are going back to campus now, you should join the ride.”

“Are you – are you not going back?” Dowoon queried, and Wonpil shook his head, stopping with a wink.

“Nura and I are gonna stay behind for a while. You go on ahead; the idiots need to get there before sports practice tomorrow.”

With a hesitant nod, Dowoon got up from his seat and turned slowly in the direction of the exit, though not before pausing to face Nyx again. She met his gaze and beamed at him, the everlasting smile shining brighter as he stared at her. 

“It was really nice to meet you, Nyx.”

“Oh, trust me Dowoon – pleasure was all mine.”

Dowoon walked away then, catching Wonpil ask about his calling her Nyx as he headed towards the double doors. As he stood at the exit, he gave the couple one final glance, watching silently as Wonpil laughed at something his girlfriend had said before burying his face in her hair. Dowoon’s lips quirked into a smile, a single thought running through his mind. 

They look really cute together. 

With that, Dowoon sighed and left the vacant club, heading for the parking lot to find Jae’s van. 

It took a span of less than one night; one night for the only girl to have ever noticed Dowoon from the shadows to turn from someone he wanted to get to know further, to someone he knew he could never have.


	4. How She Met The Light

The first time Kim Wonpil met Nura had been the first Christmas their families celebrated together.

When Wonpil had found out about the ordeal, he had a number of mixed emotions with him; he’d heard from his parents before they reached her doorstep that the family had a daughter his age, and albeit being somewhat shy, he did wish to attempt to get to know her. The same couldn’t be said for his future girlfriend, however; she hated having them there. She made it clear she hated having them there from the moment they entered the apartment; the first time Kim Wonpil laid eyes on her, she’d glared daggers at the poor boy, causing him to shrink into the comfort of his mother’s arms until she moved to the corner of the room to avoid the unwelcomed guests.

By the time dinner had come around, Wonpil had decided to work up the courage to saunter over to the girl sitting by the fire, her arms hugging her knees as she remained hidden in her own silhouette that was casted by the flames. She hadn’t noticed him until his tiny hand waved in front of her, causing the aggravated girl to jump back with a start and glare at the sheepishly grinning boy before her. 

“Hi, I’m Wonpil. What’s your name?” 

That was the first greeting Wonpil had uttered; the first words that left his lips as he tried to forge a new friendship. He realised he’d seen this girl around in school before but he’d never thought to befriend her, mainly because they never had any classes together and she seemed to enjoy football with the boys more than choir or piano, which were the only interests seven-year-old Wonpil even had. Although, from the way she stared at him with a bewildered expression and the angry tone that was laced in her abrupt reply, he realised she didn’t wish to befriend him all that much either. 

“It’s Nyx.”

“That’s a pretty name. What does it stand for?” Even as a kid, Kim Wonpil was damn persistent. He wouldn’t give up on things easily – especially not the people he knew he had to be around. It was only the first Christmas, yet he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. She had sneered in response, evidently not wanting to continue the conversation – 

When a pair of hands placed themselves on Wonpil’s shoulder, causing him to jump just as Nyx had moments earlier. His eyes widened as he turned to see Nyx’s father beaming down at him; at the age of seven, the man appeared much taller to Wonpil than he actually was, and the young boy appeared so horrified that he almost didn’t hear the small chuckle that came from metres away. He turned his head to see a once infuriated little girl with a sudden bright smile across her features, almost as distinctly blinding as the one Wonpil himself upheld. 

“Now, Nyx – we need to be nice to our guests, shouldn’t we?” her father remarked, patting the boy’s shoulder once again before motioning to the window at the end of the room, which was a direct entrance to the fire escape of the apartment building. “How about you take Wonpil up there to see the view of the city?”

Nyx rolled her eyes, though the grin on her face still remained. “Dad, we can’t go up there just the two of us. It’s not safe.”

“I love how it’s suddenly not safe when it’s not convenient for you, darling. But your brother’s already up there, and I’m sure he won’t mind watching over you both.” He bowed his head down to look at Wonpil again, an everlasting smile permanent on the man’s lips. It was one of warmth and affection; Wonpil realised the man hadn’t stopped smiling since he greeted his guests at the door. He couldn’t tell if it was nice or creepy, but he felt an inexplicable sense of security.

“Of course, it depends on whether or not little Wonpil over here wants to go. What do you say?”

“I – well, I don’t mind. As long as Nyx is okay with it.”

With a sigh, Nyx got up from her spot within the dark silhouette and walked over to her father’s side, hugging his waist tightly. Wonpil watched as her father bent down to kiss the top of her head, encouraging the growing grin on her face as she turned to Wonpil, no longer viewing him with a glaring expression but a far more delicate one; Wonpil reached out his hand as a sign of truce, not knowing how the girl would react; he expected her to ignore it like she had minutes prior, but under the watchful gaze of her father, Nyx reached out and attempted to make nice, though it seemed she was stubborn enough not to go all the way. 

She simply reached out her little finger and intertwined it with his; Wonpil wouldn’t consider it to mean that they were the greatest of friends now, but he would take what he can get. He opened his mouth to try and say something, anything to evade the awkwardness between them when Nyx simply pulled him by his finger towards the window, turning around to wave back towards her father and ignoring the bewildered look on the poor boy’s face. 

“I – I really think I should ask my parents – “

“My dad will do it for you.”

“But I don’t have enough layers on – “

“My brother brings a heater up to the roof.”

“I still think my mum will get mad if – “

“Good. Then maybe you won’t be coming back here next year.”

Nyx opened the window and pulled it up with all the strength she could muster, climbing out and turning back to Wonpil with their fingers still intertwined. The boy looked back at the living room and saw his mother cheerfully making conversation with her close friend, momentarily forgetting the existence of her son. Wonpil knew there was no getting out from this even if he wanted to, and albeit being cautious, he knew he wanted to. He’d never been to a rooftop before, and he always wanted to see the skyline from up above, especially on a winter’s day in December. So without anymore resistance, Wonpil climbed out after Nyx and landed on the fire escape, waiting for her to lead him upwards. 

She untangled their fingers for a moment as she climbed her way up, making sure to go slow so Wonpil could follow close behind her. As they ascended the stairs, Wonpil couldn’t help but try to seek answers for his curiosity, wanting to break the silence between them. 

“Why do you not want my family here?”

Seven-year-old Wonpil was never truly known for subtlety. The question made Nyx pause in her tracks, though she fell back into step not a moment later. The answer that came took a while, and in the silence Wonpil was unsure if he’d offended her; the small smile she kept on her face hadn’t dissipated since seeing her dad, but he wasn’t sure if any of that joy could be directed towards him in particular. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you guys here,” she answered, keeping her back faced towards him as she continued to ascend the narrow staircase; Wonpil took a much longer time than she did, clearly not used to being so high off the ground, yet clearly not wanting to reveal he had a slight fear of heights. 

“You guys being here just.. takes away personal time I have with my dad,” she confesses, glancing over at the nervous boy through the corner of her eye. “He isn’t around a lot, since he works overseas. Christmas is the few times I get to be with him and.. your being here doesn’t let me have as much time with him as I want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault I’m cranky.”

“I’m sure it sucks to not have your dad around all the time. I – I don’t know how that feels like.”

“You’re lucky then,” Nyx stated, turning around to face him; she kept her small body bent over the rails as she waited for Wonpil, and the boy wondered how this little girl could be so brave; he was imagining himself falling with every cautious step he took, yet she seemed perfectly fine having half her body so far over the edge. 

Wonpil wondered how her parents allowed her to be this brave. Wonpil didn’t know her parents were always too far over the edge with each other to realise. 

“You should hurry up,” she muttered. “Why are you so late?”

“I’ve never done this before. Also, what are we late for?”

“The fireworks.”

“It – it’s 10pm.”

“Exactly. Now hurry up.”

The minute Wonpil landed on the same platform as his newfound acquaintance, she reached out her finger again, waiting to be intertwined with his. Without much resistance, mainly because he knew it would lead nowhere anyway, Wonpil was led up the stairs in a hasty manner, all the while silently praying that he wouldn’t end up dying before his time. 

She got him up safely, just in the nick of time. 

When Wonpil stepped foot onto the rooftop, the view of it all left him breathless; from the fairy lights dangled over the rails to the chairs arranged sporadically around a small, circular table to that very table having a bouquet of black roses and a small Christmas tree ornament placed at its centre, illuminated by more fairy lights arranged around it. The simplistic decorated open space was only complemented by the city skyline, thousands of building lighting up in festive spirit as the wind blew aggressively, conjuring a cold just about low enough for snow. In that moment, Wonpil didn’t seem to recall his fear of heights or his worry for the cold – he just liked being there, because it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Finally, Nyx. I was wondering when you’d make it up.” The sound of a low voice came from behind them, and Wonpil turned to find a teenager in winter clothing sitting on one of the chairs, keeping his hands warm next to a heater – just as Nyx said there would be. The teenage boy turned to him, eyes widening in amusement, before turning back to his sister. 

“Brought company, didn’t you?”

“Dad told me to bring him up.”

“Right. And have me handle you both.” The boy sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. What was your name again?”

It took Wonpil a moment to register his words, not realising he was talking to him. “Uh – W-wonpil. Kim Wonpil.”

“Well, Kim Wonpil, even if it isn’t snowing yet, I don’t want to take responsibility for your suffering from a cold so – grab a blanket, and sit down to watch the fireworks.”

“Why – why are there fireworks now? I thought we wouldn’t get any till midnight?” Nyx dragged Wonpil by his finger to the chair adjacent to her brother’s and plopped him down, before reaching over to grab the blankets draped over another chair. She handed one to him before making herself comfortable on the ground, and Wonpil immediately got up to give him her seat. 

Nyx looked at him and laughed. “Sit down, dude. There’s other chairs – I just prefer the floor.”

“But it’s cold.”

“Yeah well, that’s Nyx,” her brother interjected, a grin making its way onto his face as he bent down to ruffle his sister’s hair. “Our goddess of night always did prefer the dark.”

“Goddess of night? I don’t get it.”

“It’s whom I was named after.” Nyx sighed, glancing down at the watch on her wrist for the time. 

“That’s – special.”

“My father named me, so you can take it up with him.”

“I didn’t mean – “

A cell phone vibrating interrupted Wonpil’s words, and his head snapped in the direction of Nyx’s brother, whose eyes started to glisten with excitement. 

“Mrs. Kim said any moment now.”

“Come on, Wonpil. We should watch it from the edge.” Nyx got up and tugged at the poor boy’s sleeve, expecting him to move with her, only to find him remaining put in his seat.

“Why aren’t you – “

“I think I’m safer here, really.”

“Safer?” She raised an eyebrow at him with confusion, only to have his implications gradually dawn on her. “Oh, you’re scared of heights? But you made it all the way up here.”

“I had to keep moving so it didn’t seem as bad. But I don’t really want to remain near the rails. It’s too dangerous.”

Nyx stayed silent at his answer, contemplating whether or not she should persuade him to move; Kim Wonpil shook his head with resistance, speaking up before she could say much else. 

“You can go ahead. I’ll just watch from here.”

“No, I won’t.” Nyx shook her head and placed herself down back on the floor, leaning her head against the leg of Wonpil’s chair. “I’ll just watch the fireworks with you here.”

“You – you guys never answered my question. Why are there fireworks now, at 10 pm?”

Nyx perched herself on her elbows and met the boy’s gaze, peering her eyes at him. Wonpil gave a small smile in response, not knowing how to react in any other way; surprisingly, she did just the same. 

“Because my curfew is before midnight. Is it not yours?”

The grin that appeared on Nyx’s face made Wonpil’s own grow wider, shrugging his shoulders in response as the girl turned her attention towards the sky, whispering words under her breath that were barely audible to her own ears.

“In 3.. 2.. 1..”

As if on cue, fireworks exploded into the sky, bringing burst of colour to the city skyline. From his spot near the rails, Nyx’s brother recorded the show with his phone; from their spot at the back, Nyx and Wonpil remained captivated by the iridescent lights that painted the sky. This was no first time for the girl, yet the boy had never gotten such a beautiful view before; if she herself still remained in love with the entire ordeal, then Wonpil was head-over-heels. It was only his first time up there, yet he knew this would soon become his favourite spot in the whole city. 

As the fireworks show slowly came to an end, Nyx’s brother slowly turned and faced the phone towards the two children seated close together, reaching his hand out to motion for Nyx to move even closer to the boy next to her. 

“I’m taking a photo. One for the memories,” he stated, and Wonpil watched as Nyx rolled her eyes at her brother, though she obliged nonetheless. She moved at a distance until she was right next to his legs, looking up to meet his gaze again. 

“You’re cool with a picture?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Good. I must warn you – I look really cute in photos, so you might be outshined.” 

Wonpil chuckled at the joke, acknowledging the fact that she had finally showed him a little of her sense of humour. Wonpil bent down slightly to level his face with Nyx’s as her brother snapped the photo, giving them a thumbs up in the end. 

Once the photo had been taken, Nyx turned to him again, though this time she surprised him even further by reaching out her hand. 

“I didn’t make things easy for you just now. I’m sorry. Let’s start over.”

Wonpil raised an eyebrow at her, though he couldn’t hide the amused smile creeping onto his lips. “Suddenly? Why?”

“Well, you just watched the fireworks on Christmas Eve with me and my brother; it’s a family tradition. So I guess that means we’re friends now.”

She waved her hand in front of him just as he had done to her, and Wonpil snickered at the sudden change in behaviour. For a goddess of night, she was annoyingly playful; it was expected of a seven-year-old, but that little trait of hers wouldn’t vanish even with the years to come. 

Seven-year-old Wonpil thought it was a fun trait to have in a friend. Seventeen-year-old Wonpil would soon find that it was that very trait that he would fall for. 

With the years to come, this very rooftop would be where most precious and heart-breaking moments in their friendship occurred; from the first declaration of friendship, to the first accidental kiss, to the first time they decided they wanted to be together, to the first time she cried in his arms due to the loss of her father, to the first time Wonpil told her he loved her. 

This very rooftop was where Wonpil would gradually pull Nyx out of her shadows and make her fall for the light that was Nura. 

If only he’d known what the consequence of it all would be. But young Wonpil wouldn’t have a clue. 

So with the aftermath of fireworks and fairy lights illuminating their surroundings, Kim Wonpil revealed the amused smile he’d been tempted to hide and reached his hand out to shake hers. 

“Friends it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♡ Please share your feedback with me!


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